A Child's Grief
by luna-lovegood99
Summary: Sure, listen to me wallow in self pity. It was something I gave myself a lot that night, as I remember anyway. Self pity. I laugh at it now laugh at myself for feeling all of the things I felt back then. I was mindless and stupid. My emotion took over my


I don't know exactly how it happened to me, as I only remember bits and pieces of that night. The night when everything changed. I was six, if you were wondering. A harmless six year old, a little boy who could do nothing to defend himself.

Sure, listen to me wallow in self pity. It was something I gave myself a lot that night, as I remember anyway. Self pity. I laugh at it now; laugh at myself for feeling all of the things I felt back then. I was mindless and stupid. My emotion took over my entire body then. I would die in anguish every night after it happened. Stupidity, one of my strong points when I was younger.

Of course I grew to know that my life would never be the same after that. At the time, I had expected it to go away after a few days of wallowing and heartache, pain and suffering. But like I said, I was stupid.

My mind was never the same; I had cravings for meat regularly. It drove me to insanity I believe, what happened. My mind was blank most of the time I was conscious, and I only cared about what happened to me. Me. Me, myself, and I. The best friends I had for awhile. Since my parents made for sure I was kept away from the outside world, where I couldn't harm anyone. Where I wouldn't be a threat.

Time and time again I told myself that I didn't want friends anyway. I would sit in the corner of my room and talk to myself; I kept a diary of some sort as well. To record my ways of living when it seemed there was nothing else to live for.

My life was pure hell. My mother began home-schooling me, to keep me from people whom I could harm. She fed me salads, horrible vegetables that I hated like any normal living child. But naturally, this was more than a hate.

I wasn't aloud to eat meat; I think that may have been the biggest thing to drive me insane. It was torture, my mother and father both became vegetarians in no time flat.

But me, depriving me from meat could have been the worst mistakes of their lives. I refused to eat my meals; I locked my door and wouldn't come out. I remember one time when I actually stole a roasted chicken from a neighbor. The consequences were brutal.

I remember, on full moons, walking down into the cellar like I was supposed to every month and locking myself away in a cage. I'll bring you to my first transformation actually, not too long after my seventh birthday.

i The door slammed and I could feel my heart beat racing as my eyes glanced at the moon slowly rising behind the windows of cold steel and glass. I had no idea what was coming to me. Heck, I was just waiting for a bit of pressure around my back. Maybe I would just sit around and stare at the different boxes and such around the room.

But of course, I thought otherwise as I felt my mind falling. That's right, falling. You wouldn't understand. No one could understand how I felt then. My mind just falling, falling a long distance until I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, and more importantly, I couldn't breathe.

I wasn't alive anymore. I wasn't human. All thoughts were lost, and my body was mutating at that moment. I didn't know what to think, because I couldn't think. I had no mind. No soul. Everything about me had changed. I was no longer living.

And of course I can't tell you more than that right there. Because from that point on I was no longer in this world. Another side of me had taken over; my actions were all a blur. But I can remember the pain I felt when I woke up that morning.

The bars to the cage I had locked myself in were scratched. The hard metal was bent, and I could only imagine what the scene would have looked from someone else's eyes.

I was cold. My shirt was no longer attached to me; I could see bits of it ripped to shreds in the corner. My white shirt, no longer white, but splattered with blood.

My arms were cut, and my pants were ripped to all ends. My mind was pounding, as if it was trying to make up for the absence it had given me last night.

And slowly, my little seven-year-old mind came into realization. This wasn't just any little game I was to play for a few days and then it would all go away. This wasn't some little childhood nightmare that would haunt my dreams. Because not only was it in my dreams, it was my life. That's right. My life. Me, Remus John Lupin, was no longer human. No, I now was living the life of a werewolf. A killer. A murder. No matter how much I didn't want it, it was me. My life. /i 

So as you can see, after that, of course I would wallow myself in self-pity. Who wouldn't? I would call myself a fool if I hadn't at least felt the smallest bit sorry for myself.

For the next few nights after my first transformation, the very night everything changed—the night I was bitten—followed me in my dreams. It never left my mind, I could remember every part of the time I was conscious. Actually, for some reason, I even remembered parts when I wasn't conscious. When I was a helpless being on the ground with a full grown werewolf intent on killing me towering above my six-year old self.

I can even take you back then. The night I was bitten that is. The memory still haunts my thoughts today. It makes all the difference in the world. But I'll get to all that later. At the moment, I see fit for you to know what really happened. What really happened September 15, 1966.

i Parties. How I loved them. How I loved to stare at the blinding lights, the blasting music, and watch the drunken men hit on women.

You may think this as a strange way for me to spend my Saturday evenings. Me, Remus Lupin, a small little six year old. But my father seemed to think different. He's always dragging me to stuff like this. I don't usually mind, and of course I don't tell my mum. She'd rip his head off if she knew he wasn't really spending 'quality time' with me on Saturday, instead dragging me to one of his friend's houses or local bars.

But of course, my father is a piece of work. I wonder why my mother ever married him; she could have done a whole lot better. Especially since she's one of the prettiest women I've ever seen. And believe me, from the places my father has taken me; I've seen a lot of women.

Pervy little six year old. Sue me.

Turning around I yawned and stared at the clock.

/i 1:00 i 

The thing blinked at me, and before waiting to see if it would soon change to '1:01' I walked out of Darrel's house—a friend of my father's.

The fresh air was a change from the smoking whiskey smell of cigarettes inside. I closed my eyes and inhaled the breath. How I loved the outside. It was calm and peaceful, when it wanted to be that was.

As I opened my eyes I stared into the clear blue night sky, a small grin plastered across my face as I stared up at the full moon. I could feel the light breeze ruffle my sandy colored hair and flutter around my chubby little cheeks.

Alright, so I can't remember every single detail. All I remember after that breeze was darkness. I was swirling in an unknown vortex of incredible pain. I could feel my eyes prick with unwanted tears and my throat tightening.

Everything around me was covered in a dark pitch black coat of no ending. I couldn't see anything, not even my own hand in front of me.

My heart was pounding as I managed to stay conscious in some way or another. It wasn't in a dream; this was too real to have been made up by my silly little mind. I was dying, my whole body throbbing. I could feel my mind fade away, until I was more specifically not conscious. /i 


End file.
